


Stray Dogs and Lost Puppies

by junko



Series: Written in the Scars (of Our Hearts) [9]
Category: Bleach
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-06-01
Updated: 2013-06-01
Packaged: 2017-12-13 14:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,632
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/825432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/junko/pseuds/junko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the hard-won, semi-victory against the Arrancars, Renji is feeling out-of-sorts, and there's nothing like a conversation with Urahara to make things worse...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stray Dogs and Lost Puppies

Renji considered going to high school, and then he thought: high school.

Plus, he’d gotten as far as the school grounds when he saw Rukia and Ichigo heading in. The morning was one of those perfect autumn days, clear and crisp, making Ichigo’s hair that much brighter. Rukia looked up at him, her books clutched against her breast, smiling like he was the only sun she needed to stay warm forever. It seemed like a private moment, and even though Renji knew they’d both be happy to see him, he couldn’t intrude.

He never could.

It was always his damn problem.

Renji knew he was being extra stupid considering he was dating Rukia’s brother. It wasn’t like he was saving himself for her any more, and, anyway, it was good she was happy, and he shouldn’t have all these mixed up feelings, but, well,… there they were. Wasn’t anything for ‘em. 

So, Renji turned and walked away, heading in the other direction, pushing against the morning tide of chattering school kids. 

As he slipped out through the gate, he saw Ikkaku in his too-tight school uniform, slumped against the chain link fence with his arms crossed in front of his chest, his lip pushed out petulantly, and looking miserable. 

Yumichika, who was perfectly pressed as always, seemed unusually disinterested in alleviating Ikkaku’s mood. Instead, he was intently checking the buff on his manicure. He looked up when he noticed Renji’s approach and smiled and waved. “Are you skiving off, too?”

“Yeah, I already had all the book learning I could stand at Academy,” Renji said. “Want to grab a cup of coffee or something?”

Yumichika agreed happily. Ikkaku just silently pushed off the fence and followed glumly, about two paces behind. Lugging along his wooden practice sword as usual, he slung it over his shoulders, like he was trudging off to some unwinnable battle.

“What’s up with him?” Renji asked. 

“The new girlfriend is kind of bitchy,” Yumichika said almost gleefully with a flip of his hair. They walked down the sidewalk toward the business district. A commuter train clacked overhead. Yumichika’s voice echoed thinly on the walls of the darkened, dank underpass that smelled faintly of urine. “I wanted to sleep in, but Mizuho nagged us both out the door before the sun was even up. I thought she was going to drag us into that wretched school, too, but Ikkaku actually managed to use his balls to stand up to her.” Yumichika clucked his tongue disapprovingly, though Renji thought he was smirking a little, “Plus, I think the poor dove’s a little mad he didn’t die gloriously in battle last night.”

“Oi, I’m not a poor dove,” Ikkaku shouted, increasing his pace to come up beside Renji. 

“But you sure are cranky one,” Renji returned. Once out of the underpass, it was bright enough that Renji wished he had sunglasses. Maybe he could buy some while he was here. Squinting at Ikkaku, Renji added, “I don’t know what you got to complain about, Ikkaku. You got a place to stay, you’re getting laid. Sounds like a deal.”

“Yeah, what are you sleeping three to a bed at Kurosaki’s?” Ikkaku asked, a lascivious smile cracking his face finally. 

“Mmm, all the pretty,” Yumichika sighed.

“Yeah, I wish! No, wait, I didn’t meant that the way it sounds. Thing is, I’m not sleeping with Ichigo,” Renji said, “Or Rukia. I’m over with that shopkeeper, Urahara.”

“That’s too bad,” Yumichika said, briefly patting Renji’s shoulder consolingly. “You’re pretty good as one of three.”

Renji tugged on his ear, trying not to blush at all the images suddenly spinning through his head. 

“Urahara,” Ikkaku repeated with a shiver. All the blood drained from his face, as he added, “Remind me to give your little roach motel a wide berth.”

“Oi! What’s wrong with the shōten? It’s nice! It’s really big on the inside for such a small looking place. Anyway, what’s your beef? You got some candy phobia or something?” Renji asked, “Or, considering how few customers they have, maybe a dust allergy?”

“No,” Yumichika leaned in, clutching Renji’s arm to tauntingly say, “There’s only one person in all of creation that Ikkaku Madarame is scared shitless of, and that’s Kisuke Urahara.”

“Oh yeah?” Renji asked curiously. “Old hat-and-clogs freaks you out, huh?”

“If you were smart, he’d freak you out, too,” Ikkaku snapped. 

“How the hell do you even know him?” Renji wondered out loud. They’d come the busy part of town. Skyscrapers rose ever upward, salarymen clogged the sidewalk, and traffic buzzed along the streets.

“None of your fucking business,” Ikkaku said.

“Didn’t you know? Urahara was head warden at the Maggot’s Nest,” Yumichika supplied cheerfully. And, then, in the same happy tone, he announced, “Oooh, look, a coffee bar!”

Yumichika had found them a place called Bear Pond Espresso. It occupied the bottom floor of a high rise, wedged between an ancient-looking bicycle repair shop and an up-scale beauty salon. When Yumichika opened the door, bells jingled and a warm blast of air brought the strong scent of bitter, dark chocolate.

Ikkaku started to follow Yumichika in, but Renji stopped him with the question, “Wait a minute, is he saying you were in the Maggot’s Nest? What the hell even…? I didn’t know people got out of there.”

Ikkaku’s eyes were narrow and dangerous. “What part of none of your business are you not getting, Abarai?”

“The part where I can’t get over how you know Urahara,” Renji said honestly. “And maybe where you were in some serious hardcore prison facility that I thought people disappeared into and never came out of. Wait, were you in there as a shinigami? Or before?”

Ikkaku, who was hanging onto the partly open door, let out a scream of rage, causing the people on the busy street to jump back and the people in the coffee shop to turn and stare, “Back. The Fuck. Off!”

Renji blinked. He raised his hands for peace and took a step back from where Ikkaku had gotten up into his face, “Right. Okay, got it. Sorry, sempai.”

Ikkaku wrenched the door the rest of the way open, and stomped inside, leaving Renji standing on the street, dazed. 

Yeah, Renji thought has he pulled open the door to join the queue, Ikkaku always has been a tiny bit unstable. Maybe he’d try asking Urahara about it when he got back to the shōten.

#

However, when he made it back to the shōten with a new pair of sunglasses four hours later, Renji quickly discovered that Kisuke Urahara was a hard man to pin down. And, confusing as all fuck. In fact, Renji was pretty sure he’d given away half his secrets and hadn’t gotten the first thing out of Urahara.

“And just how often do you engage in threesomes, Lieutenant Abarai?” Urahara was asking from behind his fan. 

The early afternoon had turned hot and muggy, and Renji wore only the tight undershirt he’d found his gigai in this morning. He’d stripped off his school uniform shirt and tied it around his waist and now sat outside on the wooden stoop of the shōten, sucking on a cherry popsicle. Urahara leaned against the open door somehow looking un-sweaty in his usual full gear, including the striped bucket hat. “Does your current partner approve of this activity? Because that’s… interesting to imagine.”

“Well, uh, sort of... he and I have kind of been in the market for…. Wait. How did we even get on this subject?”

Urahara fluttered his fan as though to blow away any concern. “In the market? Really? Captain Byakuya Kuchiki? How is it that you don’t have a queue? I mean, I hear he’s grown up very nicely, if Yoruichi is to believed.”

“Yeah, he’s beyond hot, but that’s not really what we were talking about.”

“Oh, my apologies, back to the threesomes, then?”

“No!” Renji growled, nearly biting into the wooden stick of his popsicle. “Jeez, how do you even do this? I was trying to ask you about Ikkaku Madarame, like, how come he thinks he knows you?”

“Are you sure he’s not confusing me for someone else?” Urahara asked seriously.

“Well, no,” Renji admitted, “Which is why I thought I’d ask.”

“Hmmm, well, I’ll have to consider the answer,” Urahara said. “Have you thought of asking Yoruichi?”

“What? She knows Ikkaku, too?”

“No, for your ménage à trois,” Urahara said. “Or do you not like women?”

Renji’s head was starting to hurt. “I like women just fine, but I’m beginning to think I hate you.”

“Oh, so I’m out for the threesome, eh?” Urahara mused not sounding all that dejected. He shrugged and fanned himself, “Probably for the best.”

Renji was ready to fling the popsicle stick at him. “Can you get off the threesome thing?”

“Look at me, resisting the obvious pun!” Urahara fluttered happily. 

Renji tipped all the way back until the back of his head thunked on the wooden floor boards, as though defeated. Because he felt that way. Renji figured it was a damn good thing he’d never been sent to the Second Division after all the dust-up with Rukia. He’d have caved like… well, like this, only faster and more coherently, probably. “Covert Ops must have known they had a winner in you,” he told the shop’s porch ceiling. “Anything else you want to know about my life? I mean, shit. Do I have any dark secrets? I dunno, but if I did, they’re yours.”

Silence stretched for so long Renji thought maybe he was talking to himself and Urahara had slipped inside. 

Lifting his head, he saw Urahara regarding him with that thoughtful penetrating gaze he sometimes had. They were unnerving, those eyes. The same color as Byakuya’s, gray, but Urahara’s were less like a gathering storm, and more like quicksilver. Renji never knew what Urahara saw when he looked at Renji like that. Their intensity had the ability to make Renji feel conspicuous and guilty. 

Breaking, Renji finally asked, “What? Why you looking at me like that?”

“I was wondering why you bullied your way into my home, Lieutenant Abarai.”

“Bullied? It was more of an accident and, anyway, you know why,” Renji said, propping himself up on his elbows to take the pressure off his abs. “I still want you to train me, like you did Ichigo. I told you that at the club. It’s clear we need to be stronger--a lot stronger—if we’re going to win against Aizen.”

Urahara scrunched the hat further down on his head. “I still say the situation is different. I’m not sure how I can help a person who already has bankai.”

“Ichigo took out Kenpachi as a warm up,” Renji said with a snort. “He did that without bankai.”

The fan covered Urahara’s face again, “Hmmm, indeed. However, everyone brings their own strengths to the battle. You can’t wish to be something you’re not… or could never be.”

“Oh, I get it. Monkey howling at the moon all over again, huh? Great,” Renji said, sitting all the way up, “That’s fucking great.”

There were several seconds of silence, and then Urahara coughed, “Um. I think I missed a step in your thought process, Lieutenant Abarai. Moon monkeys?”

“Well, that’s what you’re saying, ain’t it? The difference between me and Ichigo is ‘class’ or something, right?” Renji pulled himself up to his feet with a grunt. “I can’t be what I’m not, and I’ll never be more than some Rukongai dog. Well, fuck it. I’m sick of this shit. I thought everything would be better after bankai--you know, more equal—but, no, everybody is still stronger than me and then, on top of it all, I find out I make everyone I touch dirty. That’s just so fucked up; I can’t even take it anymore. I’m going for a walk.”

Renji got about five steps into the dusty parking lot before Urahara appeared beside him, “I’ll go with you.”

Everyone always said Urahara was so brilliant. Was he being intentionally dense? “I was trying to be nice,” Renji said, “I kind of want some time on my own.”

“Yes, that was clear. However, you also said several curious things,” Urahara said. He stopped for a moment, letting Renji get a few steps ahead. Then he scurried back up beside him, “Oh, unless you’re the type of person who’ll come right back to those ideas once you’ve walked the emotions off? Tessai does that. But it’s still hard to let him go with things unsaid. I kind of hate that, really. I find the following along method works best with Yoruichi, though, of course, she spends half her time trying to lose me, and the other half succeeding--which I also find somewhat annoying, though it often breaks her mood and we can talk again.” 

Renji continued stomping forward. He could care less about this crazy shopkeeper’s needs at the moment. Honestly, if the guy kept talking, Renji was considering giving him a smack upside the head.

But, Urahara said nothing more. He just matched Renji’s pace, like a perfect shadow.

They walked in silence through the neighborhood. They came to a part of Karakura that reminded Renji of the Inuzuri. Maybe not as dangerous, but there was a neglected, abandoned feeling to everything. Graffiti spattered the walls of abandoned warehouses and litter collected against the curbs. They passed a homeless camp, obvious from the slept-in cardboard boxes and clot of ragged humans that eyed them cautiously as they passed. A frail, older woman wrapped in a dirty blanket hushed a puppy that nipped at Renji’s heels. 

A dog.

A hungry, homeless, goddamn stray.

Renji couldn’t just walk by. He stopped, crouching down to give the pup a chance to sniff his hand. The lady looked nervous and held tightly to the squirming dog, who was excitedly yapping now, “She’s not very tame! She could bite you!”

“Aw, let ‘er,” Renji said, kindly. “It’s all she’s got, isn’t it? Nippy little teeth and a loud bark?”

“Fine weapons, not to be underestimated,” Urahara said softly, taking a cautious step back.

The lady loosened her hold on the puppy to let her excitedly jump at Renji’s crouching form, snagging teeth into the uniform shirt tied at his waist playfully, as though wanting to play tug-of-war. He offered a sleeve and let her play, until her enthusiasm tore fabric. At first the puppy sat back, shocked, but then seemed gleeful at its prize and started prancing around as though to show off her mighty victory.

“Oh!” the homeless lady said, “I’m so sorry!”

“Nah, no worries,” Renji said with a smile at the puppy’s antics. The puppy had come back excitedly and dropped the torn sleeve at his feet, clearly wanting more games. Renji picked up the scrap and let the dog tug fiercely, but he spared a glance over his shoulder, up at Urahara, “I mean, it’s alright, isn’t it, Urahara-san?”

“Why do you ask me with the sudden deference?”

“Because it’s yours,” Renji said. Renji never did know what kind of resources Urahara must have available to him to not only make all these gigai out of… unfathomable science-y things, but also to clothe them all. He put his hand on the gigai’s chest, “I mean, everything—you made it.”

“Thanks for noticing,” he said. “But it is yours. Your salary bought it. So rip it up to your heart’s content.”

Fuck. Renji’s bank account was going to be empty. 

“Right, in that case,” Renji untied the shirt from around his waist, and laid it on the ground beside the lady, “Here, give her the whole thing to play with it. Or… you take it.” She started to try to wave off the gift, when Renji stood up, “Eh, it’s probably good for her teeth to tug like that. You want her to grow up strong, right?”

Not waiting for an answer, Renji turned away, wishing he had more to give both of them. It killed him to think both dog and owner might not live out the year. But, with any luck, things were better here in the Human World, where no one was locked into place and things like soup kitchens and shelters existed. Maybe the two of them could bring each other up, like Rukia had done for him.

They’d walked a few more blocks, the buildings becoming more well cared for, when Renji said, “I shouldn’t feel so damn sorry for myself, should I? I’ve come a long way. Fuck, I’ve got bankai. But, I guess that’s what pisses me off. How come I can’t never leave that other shit behind?”

“Possibly due of your use of the double-negative?” Urahara mused.

Renji laughed. “Yeah? That’s my problem? Shitty grammar? I fix that and all the noble houses will welcome me with open arms?”

“It worked for Liza DoLittle in ‘My Fair Lady,’” Urahara said with a lift of his shoulder that sent his green haori-like overcoat billowing despite the lack of breeze. “I see you’re talking to me. Does this mean we can discuss things now? Should I buy you lunch?”

“Yeah, sure, why not?” Renji said, though he was happy to note that his wanderings had by chance taken them to a crowded alley full of street vendors that was not unlike the one in the Seireitei. The sounds of sizzling food and hawkers calling out their wares felt comfortably familiar, even if the flashing neon signs and hum of motors weren’t. Some of the smells were equally alien, and Renji found himself drawn to something called a ‘taco’ truck, which did not appear to sell octopus, but, instead, a kind of ground meat dish. The guy at the window offered to let Renji taste it, but one sniff told him it was too spicy. Ultimately, he settled for ramen.

Urahara shook his head, but pulled up the chair next to Renji under the little awning. “You come all the way from the Land of the Dead to have ramen? I despair for the younger generation. Where’s your sense of adventure? Have you tried a bagel sandwich? They have gyros two trucks down. Curry! You can taste the world here.”

Renji frowned, but said, “You’re buying. You can take me to those other places if you want.”

“Oh, this is fine,” Urahara said, catching the attention of the server. Once the order was placed, Urahara clasped his hands on the counter and smiled at Renji. “So. Tell me, were you being metaphorical earlier? Or did your noble lover actually require a purification rite, a little celestial condom, as it were?”

“Um,” Renji stared into the busy kitchen for a moment, listening to the cooks arguing good-humoredly around billows of steam from the noodle vats. “I guess the first one since I only sort of know what you’re talking about with the second. Eishirō told me I should ask Rukia about a some purification ritual. What is it, anyway?”

“A sneaky bit of magic, if you ask me,” Urahara said. “But, one that started me down the path of my life’s work in a way. You wouldn’t be willing to let me take you to the lab, would you?”

Renji gave Urahara a sidelong glance. “Is that a come on?”

“Sometimes, but not this time, especially since I’m apparently already excluded from your threesome” Urahara said. The noodle vendor set down bowls on the counter in front of them with a little curious eye quirk at Renji, but made no comment before returning to his pots. Urahara continued, “I’d love to get readings before and after a purification rite was done, especially one done by the Kuchiki household, because you know theirs must be one of the oldest, truest forms. Then we can finally learn how much damage it does!”

Noodles hanging from his mouth, Renji sputtered, “What?”

“It’s the konsō,” Urahara said, as though that answered Renji’s question. “Honestly, I’m surprised the whole thing doesn’t just poof a person back to the beginning! But, you should be in good hands. Captain Kuchiki is skilled in kidō. With him in charge, you’ll only unravel a little, but it’d still be good data. Of course, ideally, we could test various subjects at different levels of—“

“Shut up a minute, will you?” Renji interrupted. “Go back. What the fuck do you mean unravel? I don’t like the sound of that.”

“As well you shouldn’t,” Urahara agreed. “It’s never good to loosen soul stuff, especially with no containment field like they do. Trust me. It’s volatile and splits surprisingly easily.”

Urahara nodded to himself as though lost in some thought. Renji slurped his noodles, thinking. After a few moments, he asked, “Did you say what it’s for? This soul sucking thing? And if Rukia did it, did she get unraveled?”

“Yes, and alas all I was able to get was post-rite readings on her, but you know it did leave plenty of room for the… um, and, well, the good thing is that her soul seems to be recovering. I think maybe the trauma of investing Ichigo with substitute soul reaper abilities actually helped.”

Renji nodded along. He nearly lost track of the conversation again, but remembered to repeat, “So what’s it for again?”

“It’s like you said about that lady’s puppy. You and she might want the dog to grow up strong, to protect people like her, but not everyone does, do they? Some are scared of teeth. Especially hungry ones.”

Even though Renji wasn’t entirely sure he understood exactly what Urahara meant, something about his pronouncement sunk deep into Renji’s bones, and he shivered. He nodded in understanding, “Aunt Masama wants my balls clipped.”

**Author's Note:**

> Josey (cestus) really saved my bacon this time. Without her, we'd have Kuroski Ichigo, Subtitute Soup Reaper! As her partner chimed in: "getsuga soupspoon!"


End file.
